


love in different forms

by maryabolkonskaya



Category: Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryabolkonskaya/pseuds/maryabolkonskaya
Summary: Marya and Natasha talk love.





	love in different forms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alexandria (heartfullofelves)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/gifts).



It’s a few weeks after Napoleon’s retreat when Marya can finally say that she’s relaxed.

She lives alone in a little apartment near the Rostovs. She hardly ever sees Nikolai, which is likely for the better for they both know there is no mutual love between them. Marya wished there would’ve been some way for her to just give the Rostovs some money to help settle back down, but marrying Nikolai was the only proper option. She knows he loves Sonya. He knows she has no interest in men. So, she spends her days reading and praying and being thankful for what she has.

And talking to Natasha.

Her initial disgust of Natasha - of her young, beautiful face; her expensive clothing - has been changed into something Marya doesn’t think she would call love. It’s more like comfort. She feels comfortable around the girl.

 _(Marya only admits to herself the want to touch, to hear, to make_ love _to Natasha in her bedroom at night; curtains shut, door locked, the only witness being the everpresent anxious beating of Marya’s heart as her hands wander down her body.)_

The girls’ conversations don’t often stray beyond the usual topics: Andrei and his son, Nikolai, who has taken up residence at the Rostov household; their friends who are still alive and those they’ve lost; news around town; other various tidbits of info that come to the girls’ minds. And yet on one Sunday afternoon, the conversation dips into things that Marya thought she would always keep well-hidden.

Natasha’s staring rather intently into her tea and Marya takes notice. “Natalya?”

Natasha makes a quiet “hm?” noise and looks up, blushes and smiles a little. “Sorry. My mind’s wandering today.”

“It’s alright.” A pause. “You don’t want to talk about it?” Marya asks.

Natasha quirks her mouth to the side and tilts her head. “I’m thinking about love.”

Marya’s heart bumps a little more quickly in her chest. “Oh?”

Natasha frowns slightly. “And how I don’t think my love is like anyone else’s. It’s...” Natasha pauses and already Marya can tell she’s frustrated at her lack of words to describe what she’s feeling, so she takes Natasha’s hands in her own.

“Warm,” Marya suggests, and Natasha nods.

“Very warm. Almost hot.” Natasha’s face is red and Marya wonders if Natasha has dared to do what she has done before. Pleasure herself.

“Scary?”

“Scary,” Natasha agrees. “Because it feels wrong.” She frowns. “No, because it feels good. It feels good to love.”

“Yes,” and Marya smiles at that, finds herself warmed by all the brightness and hope still inside of this girl who has seen too much.

Natasha quirks her head just slightly, and whispers like she’s asking some innapropriate, “Do you feel it, too?”

Marya’s about to answer an affirmative yes, but she thinks about her bedroom. Thinks of the only love she has ever known, ever dared to acknowledge existed, and Marya doesn’t think she is experiencing love the same way Natasha is.

“I feel it differently than you do,” Marya says quietly, almost ashamed. She gently squeezes Natasha’s hands where they’re entwined.

Natasha smiles a little. “Well, then tell me.”

Marya wants to say no, but she can’t quite refuse the girl now. “I feel warm love and hot love like you. But I don’t feel love... in my heart.” Marya turns her face from Natasha.

Natasha’s smile goes away and Marya worries that she’s crossed some line or taken this conversation too far. Natasha folds her hands in her lap and Marya does the same, silence heavy between them.

“I feel love... strongly,” Marya tries. “Passionate. Not soft or gentle like you.“

“Is it bad?”

Marya pauses at Natasha’s words.  _Well, is it?_ she asks herself. She doesn’t think it is.

“No,” Marya says. “And I think I like it better than your love.”

“Why?”

“It’s skin deep. I can get rid of my love.” Marya thinks of the satisfaction as she lies back on her bed, body hot and wired. “I feel like your love...” Marya shakes her head. “It stays. And that scares me.”

Marya hears Natasha hum quietly beside her. Natasha says, “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, for love to stick around. Sometimes love can push you places you’d never dare go.”

Marya looks up and is surprised to see that Natasha is staring at her. They both look away again.

“Your love is distracting,” Marya replies. “Dangerous. Pushes you places that you don’t belong.”

“But is that always a bad thing?” Natasha responds. “I would not be who I am today without love. I would not have had the experiences that shaped me without love!”

“Your love scares me because I don’t love who I’m supposed to,” Marya blurts out. “And it sticks around and haunts me and I feel disgusting. My love goes away, albeit temporarily, but it _can_ be gotten rid of. Your love hurts, Natasha. It _burns_.”

There’s a long moment of silence between the two women as Marya takes deep breaths to calm herself, eyes squeezed shut in the hopes that she’s dreaming, and as Natasha lets Marya’s words sink in.

“Who do you love?” Natasha asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Marya looks at Natasha, eyes sad and dark. “You.” Natasha’s eyes widen. “I love you in ways that I should and shouldn’t, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Natasha immediately says, her face slowly relaxing into something kind. “Don’t ever be sorry for loving someone.”

“But...” Marya trails off and tries to explain, finding, however, that she can’t.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Natasha says, smiling softly. “And I’m not going to ask you to explain yourself to me right now. Eventually, but not right now. All I want you to know is that my love is not bad. _Your_ love is not bad. _Love_ is not bad. And if I have to tell you that every day until you believe me I will.”

Marya smiles gratefully and wills the tears welling up in her eyes to go away. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it. You deserve to hear that your love is not bad.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
